


The Proto-Type Plane and the Miniature Mind Palace

by Thesherlockholmes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Teenlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 23:12:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 15,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10423929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thesherlockholmes/pseuds/Thesherlockholmes
Summary: What would have happened if Sherlock met Eurus earlier?





	1. Chapter 1

Tumblr-Login-Messages:

-How old are you?

-15 -SH

Post.

Sherlock set his computer on the floor and leaned back against the headboard. The tree outside his window rustled in the breeze and the sun painted the sky in a beautiful sunset, visible between the leaves and branches.

Ding!

Reblogged by Eurus:

-Fifteen? You're doing a much better job at functioning at this age than I would have expected.

Picture attached

Reblog:

-I'm sure Mum and Mycroft would disagree.

Sherlock stared at the attached picture. It was a girl, about fourteen... Long, black hair. White shirt. Green eyes...

Something about this was bothering him. His brain recognised something about this, why? He hadn't ever had any acquaintances who might make a statement such as that...

-Why do I recognise you?

Post.

Better to ask, right?

Ding!

Reblogged by Eurus:

-Patience, Sherlock. You'll see... Does the name 'Redbeard' mean anything to you?

Redbeard? How? Who? What?

Reblog:

-I've never been patient. Redbeard? How do you know about Redbeard? He was my dog...

Post.

Ding!

Reblogged by Eurus:

-Oh, William.

How does this person know my first name? I've never revealed it...

Sherlock checked the clock, six. Two hours to dinner.

I wonder what Mrs. Hudson will make tonight.

Sherlock picked up his bow from the desk and began to rosin it, keeping an eye on his dashboard in anticipation.

Who was this person?

He settled the violin under his chin and began to play, improvising on his thoughts, played a melody that conveyed a sense of mystery and loneliness.

* * *

 

Eurus set the computer on the floor by her, contemplating what to do.

Her brother! It was Sherlock!

Mycroft had told her he didn't remember about Redbeard, but he hadn't told her she didn't exist in his memory at all anymore...

"Dinner, Eurus and your medication." said the nurse putting the food through the exchange. Eurus went over to get it, simply placing it in the corner and returned to the middle of the room. "Would you like to tell me what you are thinking?"

Eurus shook her head.

"Okay," said the nurse, "Do you need anything?"

My brother... to not be lost.

Eurus shook her head again and the nurse left her.

Silly of her.

Eurus hid the medication in her pocket slyly, turning at the best angle to not be detected by the cameras, then she picked up her violin and started to play, a single lonely melody, repeating and repeating and repeating.

Her dinner turned cold, still in the corner of the room.

* * *

 

This story is based on a tumblr exchange between me and a Eurus blog ( askeurus).

In case you're interested I'm askteensherlockholmes


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock checked his tumblr once more- still nothing more elaborate from 'Eurus'- before going downstairs for dinner. Mycroft was out of town on government business, so it was just Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson, his housekeeper of sorts.

"How was school today, dear?" asked Mrs. Hudson as she set down a plate in front of him before sitting down opposite him at the kitchen table.

"Boring." said Sherlock twirling and untwirling the pasta on his fork.

"Nothing exciting happened?" asked Mrs. Hudson, to this she received a look from Sherlock that could only mean 'I just said I was bored, therefore nothing interesting happened. How stupid are you?'.

"Sherlock, don't give me that look. I am smart young man." Sherlock hummed in reply and ignored any further attempts at conversation to contemplate who this Eurus was.

He realised that Eurus was 'the east wind' in Greek mythology and his brother used to tell him the story of the east wind, but that had been years ago. It was highly likely that it was a coincidence, but no one apart from Mycroft and his parents knew about Redbeard. He would ask his parents, but they were out of town on vacation- they always were now that he had become competent, in their minds, to be on his own. He'd rather not bother them and he was certaintly not going to ask Mycroft.

When he had eaten what he considered a reasonable amount he bounded back upstairs to his room. He was disappointed when he had received still nothing from Eurus. He decided to try asking her again who she was, this time plainly.

Reblog:

-Who are you?

Post.

Sherlock reblogged a few posts on chemistry and biology while he waited for her to reply.

* * *

 

Eurus set down her violin when she saw that Sherlock had responded.

Three hours later? He wants to know who I am.

She went over to her food that was still in the corner, picked up the bread roll and ate it as she thought of the main problems this had raised.

1: Mycroft would probably stop this if it went much further and then she would go back to having no one.

2: Sherlock would remember what she did and hate her, she would then, still, have no one.

She decided it was better to figure out what Sherlock's situation was. Examining his earlier answers to questions, it seemed that their parents were out of town and that Mycroft was also out of town. She knew that Mycroft was out of town, but it was interesting that Sherlock was alone... but no one would leave him alone so...

She scrolled a bit more and found that he had mentioned someone named Mrs. Hudson. He respected her, obviously she was older, so she must be watching him.

Eurus sniggered a bit at the idea that her brother had a nanny at fifteen.

Lets give him a clue, thought Eurus.

Reblog:

-I wonder how much I can interact with you before Mycroft gets antsy...

Post.

A reply came surprising quickly.

-He never watches me, so don't worry about it. He's much too busy. You still haven't told me who you are.

He still didn't remember anything... was he always this slow?

Reblog:

-You haven't the faintest idea? Interesting...

Post.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock dove into his school work the next week, completeing a variety of chemistry experiments and multiple mathematical papers. He was, of course, avoiding his English work. He deemed it as 'unnecessary' and 'boring', though he had quickly memorised all grammatical rules for use against idiots.

He had so far conversed with Mrs. Hudson quite fluently in French and was working on Latin on his own. He was also learning coding, so far not having much luck.

Mycroft was obviously busy, because he hadn't contacted him over the weekend as he usually did and there had been no calls from his parents. He occupied himself with composing various peices of violin music and attempting a duet for piano and violin that ended up sounding almost identical to Vivaldi.

Sherlock finished up his calculus work for the day and decided to organise his mind palace. Laying on his bedroom floor, he steepled his hands under his chin and arrived in the main corridor. He traveled through a few halls into his 'family' wing, through a new door to the 'interesting persons' corridor. There was, at the moment, only a boy named Carl Powers, who he had read about in the newspaper. He was a subject of obvious murder, though the police couldn't see that. He decided to add Eurus and designated a room for her, adding her into it from the image he had gotten. She spoke, Redbeard. Redbeard. Redbeard. She altered between whispering it and yelling, the sound resounding through all the corridors in his mind.

He took everything he knew about her and searched through all of the rooms, boxes, files, people, everything. The only thing he ever came up with was the image of him and Redbeard playing on a beach. His feeling of contentment with his dog, Mycroft, and his family all on holiday, together.

This was only a result of what she had said 'Does the name 'Redbeard' mean anything to you?'

How could she possibly know?

He threw the information into her room and slammed the door, snapping his eyes open.

Aargh. What was this?

This continued on and on, never anything new, no information, no ideas about who Eurus was.

* * *

 

Eurus had developed a routine by now. It consisted of speaking to the people who worked here as little as possible, spending time on the internet- though most people were idiots, it kept her semi-entertained. She hardly ate, due to the food often tasting terrible, though they would often serve her something of her own choice. She was sure this was due to Mycroft's influence over her treatment here. She often played the violin for hours on end. She was sometimes able to get sheet music by playing something terrible for days on end, until someone got annoyed enough to get her some sheet music of her own choosing. She would then play the new music for days until she had perfected it and stored the precious sheet music under her bed. She was perfectly capable of looking up various peices of music online, but she much preferred the feeling of slight control over her handlers.

She knew, also, that she could properly control them all but she wasn't interesting in that. Not yet. No, right now all she wanted was her brother. She only wanted to know what he thought, what he felt, what he was doing. She only wanted to know him.

Today, it seemed, was a particularly introspective day, spent lost in the sky. Terrified.

Eurus thought of asking her nurses for sedatives but she couldn't speak, her thoughts overriding the ability to speak. On days like this, she withdrew into a corner, ignoring all attempts at contact and conversation. She was sometimes able to play her violin, but most of the time she was only able to scream in her head, hoping to wake up the people on the plane. Not that there were many. There were ten people. Her mother, her father, Mycroft, Sherlock, and her nurses. They were all she had, no one else. She didn't even have her parents or Sherlock, only the memory of them. She knew Mycroft had told her parents some lie about her dying and what ever had happened to Sherlock that left him without her.

Oh, how I used to make him laugh! The real laugh, not the scream. That funny noise that came in waves and was joined by a smile and sometimes the watering of his eyes if I had made him laugh extremely hard.

These memories eased her mind lower, never quite landing, but close. The thoughts of the time before Victor, when Sherlock used to talk and talk and talk to her about what he has discovered in the backyard or what he had read the night before. Sometimes running to get the book and show her the information to her or to read her a passage from it. She remembered him once reading her a book on bees. She remember the happiness in his voice, the quickness of speech to relay all the information he now knew. After he had read it all she had asked him to reread it, just so that she could see that joy again.

He was always my favourite.

"Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock... help me." Eurus whispered so only she heard, possibly only in her mind. Sherlock only stared back, void of any emotion. She screamed at him. Screamed for him to wake up, to look at her, to talk to her. She screamed so loudly it came out of her mouth and surrounded her in the cell. Then there was nothing, as she was overtaken by a sedative they had given her.


	4. Chapter 4

When Eurus has woken from the effects of the sedative, she knew what she would have to do. She needed her brother, so she had to reveal herself. She quickly asked for a tea to occupy her handlers, while she recorded her old song. The song about the death of Redbeard.

She always loved it, the hidden meaning attached to it, but also the clever lyrics. She knew Sherlock would understand what it meant on both levels. He just never confronted her when they were little and had later rewritten his memories for some reason to do with emotions. Maybe this would jog his true memory.

She reblogged the post and spent the rest of the day alternating between playing the old song and her newest composition on her violin, trying to get rid of the effects of the sedative.

* * *

 

A week had passes since Eurus had contacted Sherlock. It was Tuesday and it had been terrible. Sherlock was currently pacing the living room, ignoring Mrs. Hudsons babbling about god knows what, the boredom swelling up inside him, but it wasn't really boredom. No, it was angst, and nerves, and general anxiety.

"Oh god, shut up!" yelled Sherlock

"Oh dear!" said Mrs. Hudson, jumping at his sudden outburst, "What is it dear?"

"I'm bored!" shouted Sherlock

"No, young man, you're not just bored." replied Mrs. Hudson

"Could you make yourself useful and make me a coffee?" asked Sherlock irritably.

"That's a bit strong isn't it dear?" asked Mrs. Hudson

"I could use something stronger." muttered Sherlock as Mrs. Hudson went to make the coffee. He pulled out his phone and checked tumblr again to see if Eurus had said anything else. He practically jumped from ecstasy when he saw that she had reblogged the post and had added an audio post.

"Here's your coffee dear," said Mrs. Hudson, "Anything else I can do?"

"Not for me." said Sherlock wanting her to just go, now. She did go and Sherlock sat down on the couch and took a sip of coffee before playing the audio post.

There was a bit of a rustling before the quiet sound of someone singing. He played it over unable to make it out, until he was finally able to make out the words.

_I that am lost, oh who will find me?_

_Deep down beneath the old beech tree._

_Help succour me now the east winds blow._

_Sixteen by six, brother, and under we go!_

_Be not afraid to walk in the shade._

_Save one, save all, come try!_

_My steps- five by seven._

_Life is closer to heaven._

_Look down, from dark gaze, from on high_

_Without your love, he'll be gone before._

_Save pity for strangers, show love the door._

_My soul seek the shade of my willow's bloom._

_Inside, brother mine-_

_Let death make a room._

_Before he was gone, right back over my hill._

_Who now will find him?_

_Why, nobody will_

_Doom shall I bring to him, I that am queen_

_Lost forever, nine by nineteen..._

That was his sisters voice... Eurus was his sister... and Redbeard...she...she had killed his dog. The memory of her singing it hauntingly when they were little. The memory of Redbeard, his sister-with her little toy airplane, Mycroft, and his parents on the beach on holiday. He remembered when he used to talk and talk to Eurus about everything and how they used to play together, but behind all of this was the pain of the truth. The pain that his sister had killed his dog. The horror of the small girl-his sister-killing his favourite dog.

"You killed my dog." whispered Sherlock, "You drowned him and we could never find him."

His fingers hesitated over the keyboard until he reached for his phone. He dialled Mycroft's number and waited for him to pick up.

"Sherlock," said Mycroft curtly as means of a hello.

"Mycroft, how could you not tell me I have a sister?!" yelled Sherlock into the phone

"Sherlock that's proposterous." said Mycroft

"Stop. I have a sister." yelled Sherlock

"I'm very busy, unless you have something real to say, I have to go." said Mycroft

"I remember Mycroft. She killed Redbeard and you turned her into a ghost story. The east wind." said Sherlock, not quite as loudly.

"We'll talk when I get home, but Sherlock...don't contact her any longer." said Mycroft

"No, we'll talk now and I will continue to contact her." said Sherlock

"Sherlock, I'm protecting you. I'll see you on Sunday." Mycroft hung up before Sherlock could reply.

Sherlock buried his face in his shaking hands, frustrated. He had to wait until Sunday to talk to Mycroft about this. He knew how the conversation would go. He would ask Mycroft if he could see her, he would avoid the conversation for a while before denying him what he wanted and then he would be off again to government business and probably take his computer for good measure. What he had to do right now was inform Eurus, because what would Mycroft do to her?

Reblog:

-First off: You're my sister and you killed Redbeard. I'm dealing with the obvious repercussions of that revelation but let's ignore that for the minute, because what will Mycroft do? I called him and he's coming into town on Sunday to 'talk'. Of course, he's going to lecture me on something or other, but Eurus... are you okay, where ever you are?

Sherlock hesitated before he reblogged the text, wondering if it was odd or not, he could never tell. He ultimately decided it didn't matter and hit reblog and hoped Eurus would reply soon. He quickly drank two more cups of coffee and knew it was pointless to try to sleep that night.


	5. Chapter 5

Eurus read what Sherlock has wrote and quickly typed out a reply.

-I'm fine, Sherlock. Do remember that caring isn't an advantage. I'm sure Mycroft has told you to discontinue your association with me until you are older. I'm also sure that he will be taking away this computer, thereby ensuring that we will not communicate. Brother mine, you're close enough on your memory.

Post.

Eurus counted down from ten and was greeted by the nurse.

"Mycroft has ordered me to take away your computer." said the nurse on the other side of the glass.

Eurus picked up her violin and played a horrendous composition for awhile as the nurse stood outside her cell.

"No." said Eurus before returning to her playing.

"Eurus." said the nurse loudly, "Please co-operate. I will not have another 'December' incident."

"Oh, don't be silly." Eurus turned to face the nurse, "I'm quite sure that will never happen again." Eurus said it in a slightly threatening tone. "I will keep the laptop until I have seen Mycroft personally. Oh, could you get me a cup of tea?" Eurus waited as the nurse went to make the tea, knowing that she had the habit of coming into the cell to give Eurus tea. When she did, Eurus decided to engage her in conversation. Eurus rarely did this and when she did the nurse would listen for hours, the record was five.

The nurse entered the cell from the side door- a nearly invisible panel only able to opened with a key card and ever changing code.

"I got English Breakfast." said the nurse handing Eurus the tea.

"Good." said Eurus simply.

"Up for conversation?" asked the nurse

"Could use some fresh air." said Eurus sarcastically

"What would you like to talk about, then?" asked the nurse

"Not the weather." said Eurus continuing the use of her sarcastic tone.

"Mycroft is coming on Friday." said the nurse, Eurus hummed in reply.

"Chess?" asked Eurus hopefully

"Beat me, why don't you?" said the nurse with a smile, "I'll get the board." The nurse came back a few minutes later with the chess board Mycroft had provided as a birthday present. They played for hours, Eurus won every game.

"That was predictable." said Eurus

"How do you always win?" asked the nurse in a joking tone.

"I'm too clever." replied Eurus sullenly.

* * *

 

Close enough? Sherlock wondered at what Eurus had said but decided to push it out of his mind until Sunday. This was going to be a very long week.

Sherlock reviewed what he needed to do in his school work but decided it was rather futile to attempt any work at the moment. Instead he decided to spend a day out. He quickly went to tell Mrs. Hudson he would be going out before he headed out.

Once outside he pulled the hood up from his hoodie and decided to walk to the library that was furthest away. When he entered after the long walk he put down his hood.

"Hello Sherlock! Haven't seen you here in a while." the librarian behind the desk greeted him. She was older and often wore her gray hair down.

"Any new chemistry books?" asked Sherlock

"I don't know, possibly." said the librarian

"As helpful as ever." said Sherlock sarcastically before going to the non-fiction section. He selected a book on psychology given his recent interest in the subject and went to find a quiet place to read.

Sherlock, however, was finding it hard to concentrate on the book and his mind kept returning to the mystery of Eurus-as he had taken to calling the event. He decided to once again review all the information he had.

He knew she had killed Redbeard.

Redbeard was his dog.

Eurus was-now confirmed-his sister.

He closed the book and leaned his head back, categorising the new information and recategorising Eurus into his family wing. He tried to remember more of her, but realised it was futile. All he could remember was the quaint family holiday and the rare, quiet family breakfast, of these he couldn't place the location, time, or remember context of any sort.


	6. Chapter 6

Mycroft leaned on his umbrella while pinching the bridge of his nose on the elevator ride down to Eurus' cell. He was greeted, as always, with the song Eurus had composed for him- a melody conveying a sense of overpower and meanness. Eurus had said 'It's how I feel about you' after playing it for him shortly after he had put her in Sherrinford. The stood the required three feet from the cell and waited until Eurus had finished playing, her back still towards him.

"You hurt him, you know that?" asked Mycroft

"No I didn't, he was glad to hear from me." Eurus turned around, "He didn't remember me, Mycroft."

"It was better that way." said Mycroft 

"Was it?" asked Eurus, "Repressed memories present all kinds of problems later in life. I'm helping him."

"No, Eurus, you aren't helping him." said Mycroft

"How do you know? You haven't spoken to him yet." said Eurus, "Oh, how was Africa?"

"Eurus, you will not contact him any longer." said Mycroft, ignoring Eurus's attempts at changing the conversation. 

"I can't promise you that, besides, it really should be Sherlock's decision. Shouldn't it?" asked Eurus

"No, Eurus. You killed his best friend. You hurt him so badly that he doesn't remember it was his best friend. Eurus, you will not hurt him again. I will ensure that." said Mycroft

"That's all water under the bridge, isn't it?" asked Eurus, not waiting for a reply she continued, "When you have spoken to him, we can discuss this again. Goodbye, Mycroft. Oh, and do remember to get some bullets for that gun." Eurus turned away from Mycroft and began to play her violin again.

Mycroft looked down at him umbrella when Eurus had reminded him about the gun, before getting into the elevator. Now he had to convince Sherlock what was best for him. It was best for him to meet Eurus later, when he was older.

* * *

 

Sherlock was at the front door precisely as Mycroft had his hand on the doorknob, resulting in Mycroft tripping into the house. Perfect start, thought Sherlock.

"Hello, brother mine." said Mycroft straightening his suit after he had righted himself. Sherlock didn't return the sentiment, instead he turned on his heel and headed into the living room. Mycroft followed him and seated himself on the couch, leaving Sherlock to tower over him.

"I want to see her, Mycroft." said Sherlock

"Sherlock, you really don't want to do that. Trust me, she will hurt you and it would be on my hand." said Mycroft

"You aren't on my side, Mycroft. You never have been. Therefore, I will tell you again. I want to see my sister." said Sherlock "You don't even remember her. How could you know if you wanted to see her or not?" asked Mycroft

"Tell me then. Who was my sister?" asked Sherlock

"What do you remember Sherlock?" asked Mycroft

"I hardly remember anything and what I do remember I have no context for." said Sherlock sighing, "I remember our family holiday. I remember being there with mum, dad, Eurus, Redbeard, and you. I remember when Eurus used to taunt be about the death of Redbeard and I remember our family breakfasts."

"What do you mean when you say you have no context for these memories?" asked Mycroft

"I can remember the feeling of the events and I can remember the family holiday clearly but everything else doesn't have any location associated with it." said Sherlock

"I see. What do you remember of Eurus?" asked Mycroft.

"Nothing. I remember nothing, don't you understand?" asked Sherlock tensely, "Where is she?"

"She's somewhere safe. Somewhere she can't hurt you or anyone else." said Mycroft

"Mycroft, I believe it's my decision whether I would like to meet her or not and I want to meet her." said Sherlock

"You don't have any recollection of her and yet you're adamant about meeting her." said Mycroft

"It's my life, I'll make the decisions about it." said Sherlock, "Does next Sunday work?"

"No, Sherlock. I'm protecting you. Give it a little more time and we'll see about this again." said Mycroft.

Sherlock was defeated an he knew it. He left the room and went to his bedroom, slamming the door for good measure. "Brother mine, I wish you could see that I'm keeping you safe." said Mycroft to himself, before calling Sherrinford.


	7. Chapter 7

Eurus turned around when she heard the elevator open. People rarely came in by the elevator. Now it was the nurse, _what did Mycroft order of them now?_

"I am no longer allowed direct access Eurus." said her main nurse, "Orders from Mycroft. Behave while on lock down, please. No incidents." The nurse looked at her... sadly? before leaving. The closing of the elevator signaled the near isolation that she had become used to. She had only just been allowed a little interaction and now it was gone indefinitely, by order of Mycroft.

Eurus sighed, closed the laptop, and picked up her violin. She played slow ascending notes, higher higher higher she flew, louder she played, the sound surrounding her in the cell until she reached the highest note, everyone was asleep, the clouds were floating by, _save my soul._ She quickened the melody, drawing the bow quickly across various strings, a mad sounding melody. She was working herself into a frenzy, the sort that caused her to try to break the glass of her cell and scream until everyone woke, though they never did. She felt her cheeks become wet, then her neck, she played faster, the notes were no longer right. They were screeching through the plane. Eurus opened her eyes.  She slowed her bowing. She returned to the slow melody just as suddenly as she had begun the mad one, fading the notes until there was only silence. 

Eurus lowered the violin to her side. She placed it on the small table before sitting in the middle of the cell. She dried her face with the sleeve of her shirt. She must get out to her brother. She needed him, but how was she to do it?

* * *

 There was a knock on the door- _Mrs. Hudson._

"Dear I got you some tea. Now, I know you think Mycroft-" Sherlock threw the door open, took the cup of tea from Mrs. Hudson, and slammed it again.

"Another time Mrs. Hudson!" yelled Sherlock, as he put the tea on his desk and flopped onto his bed. He checked tumblr again, Eurus hadn't said anything to him in two days. Mycroft must have done something. Why did he have to interfere? He already knew the truth about Redbeard or was close enough as Eurus had said. There couldn't be any more secrets, could there? Sherlock looked at the picture of his sister again. She looked empty or sad. 

New Post:

Eurus, what has Mycroft done? Are you doing alright?

Sherlock backspaced.

Eurus, what has Mycroft done? Message me.

Post.

He placed the laptop back on his desk and took a sip of tea before picking up his violin. He pulled out his composing booklet and opened it to a new page. What should he compose for Eurus? What was he going to compose for the sister he didn't remember?

He began to play the melody she had sent him. Gradually he improvised from it. He jotted down a few notes, then continued, letting his fingers move as they wished. He continued to write down what he thought sounded akin to his thoughts of her. The melody began to sound lonely, singular, and powerful. A single note rang out at the start, followed by a repeat of three notes drawn together softly, the monotony broken by a slight crescendo: the highest note played loudly, before the notes repeated, more powerful this time, soaring together, another high note, then a soft descent with the sound fading out to the ending. He played it through a few times and made a few adjustments before picking up his phone. He recorded what he had written and posted it, tagging Eurus. Maybe what she needed she could find in his composition if not his words. He sipped his tea and waited to see what she thought of it.

* * *

 Ding!

Eurus turned her head towards the laptop. Sherlock had attached a video. Oh and he wanted to talk. Eurus played the video and heard a violin. Her brother had composed this. She sat down on the bench and listened. The melody was slow, alternating between feelings of power and apprehension, simply played but still wonderful. Eurus rested her head in her hand and replayed the song a few times before saving it to the laptop. She opened up messages and wrote:

The violin music was nice. Do you remember me teaching you? 

Send.

Dinner had been placed in the hatch, sometime as she had been absorbed by the music. She retrieved it and set the plate on the table. She played the video again, setting it on instant repeat and on full volume. It was much nice to have outside input and for once, in a long time, Eurus almost liked eating dinner.

* * *

Sherlock walked into the dining room, where Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson were discussing something over the stew being served. He turned immediately to leave, only to be stopped by Mrs. Hudson. She was quick for her older age and she had grabbed his arm before he was out of the room.

"You will sit and eat no matter how angry you are with your brother. He works hard and you very rarely see him, so you will spend time with him now. Family is all we have in the end, Sherlock."

"Indeed, we must value _all_ of our family." replied Sherlock icily, before sulking back to the table. Mrs. Hudson handed him a bowl of stew and returned her attention to Mycroft. 

"You were saying?" 

"Well, I believe Sherlock ought to be watched carefully. He does have a tendency to get himself into trouble when faced with.... emotional turmoil."

"Mycroft, I am fine!" shouted Sherlock.

"Why do I recall you saying that last time?" Sherlock dropped his spoon into the bowl and scraped the chair against the floor as he got up, propelling himself out of the room followed by Mycroft's voice. "Be reasonable, brother. I am always-" Sherlock had reached his room and slammed the door, unable to distinguish what Mycroft was saying. He already knew and he was perfectly fine.

Sherlock opened his laptop and opened tumblr, seeing that there was a message.

Eurus:

The violin music was nice. Do you remember me teaching you?

Sherlock's lips quirked into a small smile and he typed:

Eurus, no I don't remember anything about you. 

Send.

He added the information to his mind palace and found himself vastly intrigued in Eurus. He didn't need anything, save for more information. Everything would be fine. 


	8. Chapter 8

Rain poured down as Sherlock pulled his coat closer around him and headed to the library. He didn't bother with a cab, the sopping wetness surrounding him distracted him from his thoughts and for this he was grateful. He was walking to the library furthest away, taking a route which surely avoided any shady alleys. He was fine, so it was quite unnecessary but even so.

The people passing by on the sidewalk provided a small distraction from his more intrusive thoughts. Most were quite ordinary, going back to work from lunch or running errands, but some were interesting. One such interesting person rounded the corner, approaching Sherlock as he passed the Italian restaurant that was close to bankruptcy due to under-the-table work gone wrong. _Obvious._ The woman approaching walked hurriedly down the sidewalk- a widow, previous husband military personnel, reader of the guardian, and a liar. There was something about her that irked him, there was something missing in his deductions. She passed him as he realized his confusion. He turned around and watched her walk away, but she was out of view before he could work out what he had missed. He put it out of his mind, dismissing it as nothing and continuing on.

Missing deductions seemed insignificant at the moment, however. Forgetting memories was worse by far. All his memories of his childhood seemed as if they had completely betrayed him. He didn't know which were complete now and it was teasing and taunting him. What was he forgetting about Eurus? There must be something important that he didn't remember, that was obvious. What he was forgetting was not, however.

Sherlock reviewed what he knew for what must be the hundredth time. Mycroft, him, and Eurus. The family on a beach holiday with Redbeard. He remembered Redbeard running circles around him as he waved his sword, pretending to have just conquered an enemy ship. Sherlock scoffed at himself, he had been so silly playing pirates and forcing Mycroft to walk the plank a few too many times. Mummy and father had always told him to be nicer to his brother before calling them in for tea. That was when they still cared, when they didn't go flitting off to wherever they wanted without a second thought. Once Mycroft had left for uni they spent less and less time in London, leaving him alone with Mrs. Hudson. Not exactly terrible company but she was not Mummy. Perhaps he had been the one that disappointed Mummy. Sherlock drew himself back from the thought and moved on to a more productive train of thought.

Eurus had killed Redbeard and took to taunting him with her riddle. It had hinted at where she had killed the dog, Sherlock remembered. But some of the lines did not serve such a purpose. They must be there for some reason, no part of a riddle is insignificant- similar to mysteries. Why was she lost? What did that have to do with finding Redbeard? Had she also explained her motive in the riddle, was that it? Was that why she had said he was 'close'? Sherlock ducked under the nearest awning and pulled out his phone. He opened tumblr and messaged Eurus:

What does the riddle mean? Are there many messages in it?

Sherlock doubted Eurus would give him a straight answer. It was worth a try however. Anyway, it would further the amount of information he had. He put his phone back into his coat pocket and stepped out into the rain again. He wasn't far from the library now. The rain was letting up which Sherlock was a bit let down by. He rather liked the rain pelting down on him. What was he forgetting? What does the riddle mean? Why is his sister locked away somewhere? What are they hiding? Why? Sherlock continued on and on questioning, the number of questions grew by the second. Overtaken with frustration Sherlock deliberately stomped through the puddles in the street like a small child. It didn't help. He heard Mycroft scolding him, Sherlock ignored this and entered the library soaking wet.

* * *

 

Eurus declined breakfast, only continuing to play her violin as the guard had delivered it. She had no appetite, a result of the sure lonliness that had engulfed her and her longing for her brother. There was still no word from Mycroft but she must meet her brother. She must meet him before her complete doom.

She knew she would have to manipulate this whole prison to get out of it and it would start today. She knew that whenever Mycroft ordered a complete lockdown on her they were sure to watch her even closer. This resulted in a rotation of guards being sent down to check on her in her cell. It also was the time in which she was subject to psychological evaluations. They were always pointless, the doctors never listened and they were too slow to comprehend her thoughts. However, they were essential in getting out of here.

Apparently studying human psychology did not make one immune to the fragility of it. She found pychologists terribly easy to manipulate, mostly by disturbing their own thoughts. It wasn't that she didn't know what she was doing- no on the contrary- nor was she unaware of the consequences. It was just that she always forgot that most humans were so fragile. She just underestimated the effect she would have on them. Words were very powerful apparently and she didn't know her own strength. It would take awhile to manipulate ever different psychologist in the facility but there wasn't the chance that she wouldn't be able to speak to each and every one of them. She was rather a special case here and when she would talk she provided what was a very fascinating subject. As if she was some rare species of mushroom that biologists were itching to inspect and classify. They would never understand though. Only Sherlock could understand, of this she was sure.

Eurus set down her violin on the floor and went over to open up the laptop on the table. Tumblr was now always open in the tabs and she saw that Sherlock had sent her a message.

Only one, Sherlock. Remember the context.

Eurus felt like being generous with her hints. All she wanted now was for Sherlock to remember and then for him to save her. How he would, she didn't know, but he had to. Didn't he? Wouldn't he?

Ding!

Sherlock:

While I try and remember what I don't remember, why don't we just talk a bit? I'm bored. I suspect you are as well.

Bored? Well.... yes I suppose. Not much to do here really. Tell me, why do you have a nanny?

Eurus smirked at her question and hit send.

Mummy and Daddy went away. They aren't around anymore now that Mycroft is out of the house. I almost suspect they'll simply announce that they'll never come back. However they don't trust me left to my own devices.

Eurus frowned, why didn't they trust Sherlock to be alone? Interesting. He must have done something at some point while they were away.... Eurus scrolled through his archive and saw that there was a gap in posts two months back. 

What happened two months ago?

Sherlock didn't reply for a few minutes, leaving Eurus to try and deduce more from his posts. There didn't seem to be many clues however. He was obviously careful about what he posted and reblogged. Finally Sherlock replied:

You have secrets and I'll have mine, until we meet again.

Must be sensitive about whatever had happened. Eurus acknowledged that she could pry at him now, but she didn't want to. They must have something they don't know about each other and she was already in the lead there so she gave Sherlock his way. 

Alright. Where are you?

Library.

Go there often?

Often enough.

What are you reading?

Your messages.

Eurus rolled her eyes.

What book?

The World of Bees

Eurus looked up the book.

A bit out of date.

Perhaps.

Don't you have school?

Don't you?

No.

Why not?

Oh, finished everything interesting. Or they wouldn't let me go any further, something about gaining too much information. I'm some kind of hazard it seems. 

Eurus backspaced.

Oh, finished everything interesting. 

_Better_ \- enter.

What do you do then?

This, research sometimes. I mostly just play the violin. 

You must play well then.

Eurus paused in her quick typing. Did she play well? She must, it always sounded right.

Yes. 

:)

 A _smiley face_?

That's obvious.

Eurus smirked. 

Brother mine you are still my favourite-

The elevator opened and someone entered, interrupting her typing. Lunch. Eurus stared at the guard making sure to seem as intimidating and insane as everyone thought she was. He was slightly shaken, judging by how quickly he looked away- as if she was going to hypnotise him with a stare- and put the lunch in the hatch, before leaving as quickly as possible.

Eurus deleted what she had written.

Everyone is so slow here. It's rather boring.

This was quite far from the truth. Everyone here was really odd and treated her as though she was going to kill them at any moment. It was better that Sherlock not know that now, however. What if he was scared off as well? 

Why did everyone act that way here? Why was she here in the first place? Eurus had tired of asking that question long ago, she could never find an answer herself and no one would tell her. Sometimes she felt more like an animal perceived as dangerous and avoided at all costs. Something that causes everyone to be wary at all times. When she was little, Mycroft had told her that she was different and it frightened people because they could not understand those differences. That was before he too had become frightened of her differences, before he had put her in this place.

Had it been killing Victor that had put her here? She had to. It was not morally wrong, as everone thought. She had a reason for killing him, couldn't they see that? Victor was going to harm Sherlock. It had been obvious even before he had brought the snake in. Eurus considered the memory. Victor had come into the kitchen as she had been making tea. Well, mainly making tea- she had also been experimenting with the effect steam had on the wood cabinets. That had greatly infuriated Mummy. Eurus remembered the sizzle the water had made as it landed on the hot stove, spilling out of the kettle in her haste to stop Victor. He had come in from the garden with a snake, a poisonous snake. Perhaps it had been a mistake- Victor had always been such an idiot- but it was almost certainly not one. He had smiled at her as the snake slithered in his grasp. She had yelled to him to put it back in the garden, to get rid of it, that it was poisonous. He hadn't listened however, running off into the house. She followed- there was the sizzling water- but she couldn't catch up with his fast steps. She lost track of where he had been and where he went as she fell behind him. When he returned to her, the slithering creature was absent from his hands. She had screamed then. Her parents came running, followed by Mycroft. She had tried to tell them what had happened but they only believed Victors' lies. Mycroft interrogated her between puffing breaths, but he also believed Victor. Why hadn't they seen what was so obvious? She had been sent to her room, followed by the sound of her mother telling her not to lie and to not be selfish, that her brother had a "very nice" friend. She had to do something to prevent a fatality from the snake, so she had stolen the matches and burned the house. The smoke filled her lungs, causing her to cough, as father picked her up and put her over his shoulder as he ran out of the house. Outside they watched the house burn, while Sherlock glared at her and cried. Eurus sighed, why hadn't they listened to her? If they had would she still have been put here? 

Sherlock had responded:

Where are you?

I can't tell you. 

Eurus stood up, suddenly feeling that strange feeling in her heart and stomach again. There was a ding, another message, but she no longer felt like corresponding with someone who didn't know her anymore. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter this time. Do you like it? Let me know. I'm still on the search for a beta so if anyone is up for the job, let me know!


	9. Chapter 9

It had been three days and no psychiatrist had visited. Eurus was beginning to worry that Mycroft had ordered for complete isolation. If that were the case, she had no way to get out of the cell. During this time she hadn't contacted Sherlock, because he only reminded her that she was still alone, and would possibly be alone for a very long time. 

She hadn't slept the last three days, hoping that a guard would be sent down to tell her to sleep. She only needed one person to begin her plan, but it seemed as if they were following Mycroft orders stricter than usual. In the meantime, she had played the violin non-stop. Meals had been delivered, but the guard did not interact and she was quite sure that he had been wearing ear plugs. They made sure they wouldn't hear her, whether or not she had something to say. She no longer had a voice it seemed. No one would listen to her, no one would speak to her. All because they were afraid of what she would do to them.

At the moment she did have a plan but usually she hadn't. Before she had no reason to try to manipulate those that had visited her and it wasn't as if she would do something completely drastic now, anyway. At most she would have to incapacitate a few people to make a message. Nothing drastic, really. 

Eurus wondered if they had audio from her cell. If they did, she could simply say what she needed. If she said it quietly enough, if it was barely a whisper, loud enough to be registered without them realizing then she could get her plan in action. 

Eurus played her violin softly, a calming repetitive melody. 

"Helping someone else is the best way to help yourself. Help me." Eurus whispered, "Helping someone else is the best way to help yourself. Help me." 

On and on she continued but it seemed to have no affect. No one had come down to her cell, no announcements had been made over the loud speaker. Nothing. 

Eurus placed her violin on the bed, before whipping around and bolting towards the glass. She threw herself into it, bruises were sure to form, before screaming and banging on it. She kicked at it, her hands hurt from the pain. It didn't shatter. She kept on, shaking her head, banging, kicking, screaming. Footsteps. Heavy footfalls running along the passageway up stairs. 5,4,3,2,1. Two guards arrived at the door to her cell, card swipe.... Eurus stopped and turned, perfectly calm, towards them. Earplugs were in. So, there were going to be a few injuries.

She rushed toward the guards, knocking one off balance as the other grabbed her. She stabbed him with the tranquilliser he was about to inject her with and tugged herself out of his grasp. They'd wake up in a few hours. Eurus stole the key cards from the guards and made her way out of the cell. She ran along the passageway leading away from her cell. There must be a guard at the end of the- 

Eurus blinked her eyes open. The lights were set to low. She looked around- back in her cell. Her eyes shut again. There was that feeling in her head- pain. Must have been knocked over the head, then sedated. Eurus opened her eyes again and sat up slowly. She felt slightly nauseous, but she pushed aside the feeling to walk over to the table. Her eyes fell onto the empty top- the laptop was gone.

"They did tell you to behave." Mycroft's silky voice announced from outside. 

There was nothing to say. Eurus simply looked up at him and stared. How could you do this? Don't you understand? Eurus turned away then and picked her violin up from her bed. Facing away from him she played, so that he wouldn't see the tears in her eyes, nor the fear that they were covering. 

"Do remember that this is your own doing, Eurus." said Mycroft over the music. "Goodbye." The sound of shoes on the hard floor followed by the closing of the elevator signaled his disappearance. Eurus put down her violin then, what was there to play? She wasn't able to make the notes sound as she felt, there was a dissonance between them. Perhaps they did sound as how she felt after all.

He had spoken as if she wasn't his sister. As if she was uncontrollable, as if she was unable to control herself. She had. She hadn't told Sherlock, she hadn't killed the guards, she hadn't tried to manipulate them when she incapacitated them- in fact, she hadn't successfully manipulated anyone in.... one month. Eurus laid down on the floor, curled in a ball, and woke in the plane.

* * *

 

Sherlock checked tumblr for the third time that hour. Eurus had said nothing for three days. There had been no activity on her blog either- he had checked, multiple times. He closed his laptop and returned to his school work, however he soon found himself rapidly tapping his pen on the table having only finished one problem. He put the pen down and got up quickly- his head spun for a second- before he began to pace up and down. The energy would not leave his legs, it ran up and down his hamstrings and his heart was beating slightly faster than normal. He felt his finger scratch the middle of his thumb just in time with his steps. He was consumed with this energy that he would normally classify as being bored, but he wasn't bored now. He was running everything through his mind every second. It was pointless. He knew his, but there was something, there must be something. 

Unable to stay still he rushed down into the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. While the water heated, he paced frantically about, almost running into Mrs. Hudson as she came through the door.

"Oh dear! Didn't know you were down here." Mrs. Hudson stopped and looked at him, "What is it dear? Is it about those computer messages?" She whispered the last part, looking concerned.

 "Doesn't make sense." muttered Sherlock, more to himself than her.

"You'll figure it out all in time." she patted him on the shoulder before going about making something. Sherlock continued to pace, staying out of her way. 

"Sherlock, here's your tea. Why don't you sit down for a moment?" 

"Too much, too many. Oh god!" Sherlock slammed his hands down on the table, finally coming to a halt.

"Oh dear!" Mrs. Hudson rushed to envelope him in a hug. He slumped against her, not that he wanted to, not that he needed this. Sherlock dropped his head forward, suddenly exhausted. He complied when Mrs. Hudson helped him into the chair and sat across from him. "Would you like to tell me what this is all about?"

Sherlock studied the wooden table- traces of flour, she had probably baked something earlier, bread most likely. He looked up at her, studied her expression. She was genuinely concerned, she really wanted to know. Sherlock drummed his fingers on the table for a minute before conceding.

"I have a sister, apparently." His voice was barely a whisper. There was silence for a long while, before he continued. "She messaged me and I figured it out. I remembered but there's something I'm missing. Can't figure it out."

"I see. What information do you have?" Mrs. Hudson knew by now that when talking to Sherlock you had to ask for information. It helped him to list it all out loud, he liked to show off what he knew.

"She's locked away somewhere, don't know why. Has to do with Mycroft most likely, his doing. And... Redbeard has to do with her. She, um" Sherlock faltered and took a sip of tea to calm himself, "killed him. The dog."

"Oh, that's not very nice now, is it?" 

Sherlock huffed out a laugh at that, "No. But there's something... something Mycroft doesn't want me to know. Did he tell you anything?" He looked up at her suddenly, sharply. His eyes shooting lasers at her.

"No dear. He only said to watch you, not that you need that." 

"Indeed not, ridiculous."

_Quite the opposite, really. I need to be watched, I do._

"Of course, dear." 

They sat in silence as they drank their tea. Mrs. Hudson had brought out some chocolate biscuits and Sherlock has finished off half the package. Neither mentioned it. Eventually Sherlock got up, carrying a full mug of tea with him. He spoke quietly just as he left the room.

"Thank you." He didn't see the deeper look of concern on Mrs. Hudsons face as she finished her mug of tea in the silent kitchen.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude- Eurus

November 2012- Sherrinford Prison

Groan, clang, lock.  
A holding cell, all grey.  
"Don't speak. No sound." the guard said as if I was insolent. He walked away.  
This was it. Place after place turns up here, in a grey cell hearing screams from the next and insane chanting from another. I needed my violin. I played fingerings on my leg, hearing the music clearly in my head- despondently right. Always just right, never good, never beautiful, just right. No colour, just black and white. No inbetween, no grey. And here I am in grey, in a holding cell, in between with only one outcome. Was there even an in between? Had there ever been?

Another cell a few hours later. Still grey, no inbetween. Permanent now. Surrounded by a permanent inbetween. Apparently this cell facilitated conversation between patients and nurses, prisoners and minders. Not that I wanted conversation, what was the point? I was alone only a short time- reviewing stages of decomposition due to the apparent corpse in the cell opposite- when a nurse came.

"I won't rot away like that. It's not possible in my physiological makeup. Too clever." I had said, it wasn't true- I was terrified I would do exactly that and no one, _not even Sherlock,_ would care. 

"You'll never die? Immortality is boring too, isn't it?" responded the nurse coming into the cell, crowding into my space.

"Step back." 

"I'm only going to take your vitals." She approached closer, I shrunk further into the corner.

"Step back."

"I just need your arm." She reached out and grabbed my wrist. Too much. Scream. Black. 

 

Mycroft was standing outside the cell, speaking to someone oh so formally- didn't that posture hurt his back? I stared at him for a while, wanting to pick him down to his bones to figure out why he had put me here, absorb his normalness- no, no, no. I didn't realize I was still staring when he finished speaking and turned around. 

"Why?" I asked.

"You'll have to be more specific." Condescending, fake smile, go away. 

"Why am I here?" 

"You're an 'incandescent genius' " mimicked Mycroft, "You know why."

"It's your fault. All of it. Tell them to stay out of my cell." 

"The nurse was only doing her job." 

"She treated me as if I were insane." 

"To these people you are."

"And to you too, you're no different."

"If you have nothing constructive to say, I'll be leaving."

"Violin. I need it." 

"So you shall have it." He turned then and walked away, I ignored the final, pitying glance. He didn't really care. 

 

The violin arrived two torturous days later. When I awoke, I played it immediately. But, who had come into my cell? Right handed,perfume- oh, the nurse, of course, boring. I scratched out a scale, it sounded right but a bad kind of right. The right that others said wasn't right. I continued, then I switched to Musgraves Ritual. Slowly and sweetly I played the song that had confined me to this cell, how fitting. On and on and on through breakfast, lunch, dinner, nurse visit. On and on and on drowning out the grumbles from other cells and hearing it replaced once with humming and another with shouting to stop and then an apparent argument between two other inmates. I only continued and they stopped eventually and all was silent again. 

 

"I was in school before this." I said to the nurse putting down my violin. 

"Most children would be." she retorted, laughing slightly.  _Was she laughing?_

"Sorry, are you laughing?" I ventured,  _she'll think I'm really an idiot now._

"Yes." She looked over, "Don't worry, some people have problems descerning these things- emotions, meanings of idioms, of course you know that." I glared, of course I did.

"Could I study that?" Could I have something to do?

"I suppose. Though if it gets you talking, then I could teach you. That would get the higher ups to look a bit more kindly on your treatment and my job." 

"Hm, no." _I don't want you to go, you almost understand._ She was examining my face now, I looked down at my violin. 

"Eurus, I wouldn't go away."

"Why would I care?"

"Let me teach you. We could go down to the library, get some books, and study together. What do you think?"

"I usually like to play the violin during the day." She laughed again. 

"Eurus, just say yes. We can study at night if you want to play during the day." She was smiling again.

"Are you excited?" I sounded bored.

"Yes."

I tuned a string on my violin, considering. Pluck. Pluck. "Fine."

"Brilliant. Now eat your lunch." The nurse left then without telling me when we were going to the library. 

 

The day seemed a bit less dull in anticipation for studying. I played light, fast songs and ate at every meal- a record since my confinement. Hours past dinner and the door of the cell opened. 

"Ready to go?" asked the nurse.

I stared.

"C'mon." 

I followed her out of the cell and down a concrete corridor. She showed her badge to the guard at the end of the corridor and received a nod, before we continued on. The hallways all looked the same, only a difference in the number painted in the corners before turns and separation of hallways. The hallways were quieter than the cell blocks. We arrived at the library far too soon it seemed. 

"There isn't a huge selection, but I'm sure I can get any book you might want." She unlocked the door and walked in. The library was dull, grey metal shelves ran up and down the room. There were no chairs like the libraries at home nor tables or carpets. 

"The psychology books are over here." The nurse led me to the shelves and I examined the titles. 

"All of them. We'll read all of them." I said. 

"Alright," she said, apparently not daunted at the task, "Choose the ones you want to start with."

"You're the expert, you choose." She turned away and examined the books, "Here's an introductory one and another, then some advanced ones, yes." She handed me five books, before piling books into her own arms. 

"This is your tactic for stopping me from causing havoc?" I asked, she laughed,  _good._

We headed back to the cell and settled at the table, the nurse pulled in a chair. 

"Now, we will not be having a study session without treats, so. Hot chocolate, biscuits? What do you want?"

"No one has asked me what I like to eat."

"Well they don't like individual choice here."

"No, I mean ever."

"Oh, well, first time then! All the better! What do you want?" She was disguising her pity for me with encouragement and cheer, annoying. 

 "Don't do that and hot chocolate sounds good. Is there any cake here?"

"Do what?"

"Disguise your pity. It doesn't work. You shouldn't pity me anyway. Not having a favourite food is not what got me here, that was just because of who I am."

"That's not true Eurus. Listen, I know you don't think it, but you're just fine. You just got slighted, that's all. And you brilliance was misinterpreted."

"But I'm not- nevermind. Cake?"

"Oh, yes. I'll call it in." She used the intercom outside the cell door to order the snacks. "There, let me know if you want anything else." 

 I began to read then, with the nurse sitting by my side. It was fine. I finished the first book- elementary "I already knew all of this, obvious."- the nurse selected a thicker book after and that was interesting. After some time- I don't know how long but the nurse was yawning- I can upon a particularly relevant chapter. 

"Is that what I am a psychopath?" Her opinion didn't matter, not really, but I wanted to see what she thought of me, how she blinded, what was her weakness?

"No, I don't think so. You had good intentions, they just didn't seem like that to others." she said.

"My view can hardly be reliable." I returned to reading, in truth it wasn't helping me solve the puzzle that was my head.

Three years in schools for troubled children after the house fire with my parents visting every month, their expressions holding back sadness, or was it fear? Deemed a criminal and danger I was put here after an accidental killing, or was it accidental, really? I had complete control of my mind, didn't I, I was clever enough even in my sleep so it must have been my fault. The death hadn't saddened me or made me feel guilty, whatever that felt like. The boy was an idiot anyway- but they wouldn't hear that. Now stuck in this six by seven foot cell, with a nurse as a minder- what about her anyway? I had been thinking too much to pay attention- who was she, what was she, how could I break her? No. No, no, no..... maybe. 

I glanced over at her, she was reading the page I had been staring at, I'd give her a bit longer.

"What's your name?" 

"Yael." 

Interesting. Hebrew origin, and- oh, did she have an accent? How had I not noticed? What had happened after- 

"Did you drug me?"

"Sedated, yes. You were startled when I took your vitals." 

If you had left, it wouldn't have happened, but you never do. You stay and stay and- why? You don't care, you can't care. Your job then. Oh, you have a child, no two, there! One way in! 

"Eurus?" I blinked at her, at her.

"I'm bored now, you can go." 

"No, what were you thinking?" 

"That you're an idiot and I'm bored. Leave." 

"Why don't you talk to me?"

"LEAVE!" Hands coming up, grabbed, restrained.

"Eurus, calm down. Eurus, talk to me, what are you thinking?" 

"You should kill him, your husband. You want to. You resent him." 

"That isn't what you were thinking about."

Silence. She saw through it. She could never leave. Please don't leave.

"Play your violin for me, I haven't heard it enough yet. Play something you wrote."

I stared at her. What was she doing? I picked up my violin anyway, why couldn't I figure this out? And played. And played and played.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the hiatus. Posting will not follow a schedule until the summer months, due to school. I hope you are all doing well. I will confide that I am writing because it is good way to express my current thoughts- especially this story. If you liked this interlude or have suggestions, as always let me know. Every comment is a ray of sunshine in my days! Oh, and I'm still looking for betas- I always am, message me if you are interested! Thanks for reading, dears!


	11. Chapter 11

Mycroft settled into his chair with a sigh. The office was dark, he had only turned on the desk lamp. The day had been long already and there was still a number of pressing issues he had to resolve.  
After the headache had dissipated he reopened his eyes and opened the file in front of him. He had gotten through the first few pages before his phone rang.  
Mummy.  
He ran his hand across his forehead where his headache has reappeared. After a moment he accepted the call and lifted the phone to his ear.  
"Mycroft." The stern voice announced without preamble, "Your father and I are having a wonderful trip, since you haven't inquired." There was a pause, Mycroft didn't respond. On the other end, he heard his mother sigh, annoyed perhaps by his lack of retaliation. "So much so that we're going to stay."  
"And what of Sherlock?" asked Mycroft, making sure to sound unconcerned.  
"Oh, I'm sure he's just fine. He has.... that woman. No matter, he won't mind I'm sure." Mycroft inhaled, "I must be going now." Then the call was ended as abruptly as it had begun. Had he really expected any different?  
"Anthea?" She had heard and entered his office a few seconds later. "Could you move my next appointment back by five minutes?"  
"Certainly sir." she said, never once looking up from her phone.  
"Thank you." She left and Mycroft skimmed over the file before him. Three minutes later, Mycroft rose, straightened his tie and left his office. Family problems would have to wait, he had the government to run.  
If only it was that simple, he thought.

* * *

Rain beat down as he left his office at half past midnight. Opening his umbrella, he walked to his car, turning on Vivladi as he began to drive home. What was he to tell Sherlock? Would he do it tonight? Would it be too much for him? And what of Sherlock? With Eurus and only having recently gotten over withdrawal.... 

Mycroft sighed, pulling into the driveway. He had no energy to go into the house. Sherlock would undoubtedly be up and he couldn't face him. He was turning the key to restart the car when the front door opened. Sherlock sauntered down the pathway to the car and over to the car window. 

"You look tired. Eat too many cakes again? Digestion is hard." Sherlock said mockingly. He wanted to know why I had been sitting in the car for a good fifteen minutes.  _Good lord._

"Attempting to create a position in government really is trying, Sherlock. Not that you would know about anything of the sort." He glared.  _Not good._

"Leave as you were going to then." He said before walking back into the house, slamming the door after him. I sat in the the driveway for the next two hours. Where was I to go but here?

* * *

A week passed before he was able to speak to Sherlock. They were playing a game of chess and Sherlock was being uncharacteristically amiable. I took advantage of his mood, even if I felt wary of it. 

"'Mother called me." He moved his queen,  _unwise move he's interested._ "She says her holiday is going well." 

"Isn't that nice." 

"Sherlock," I hesitated, pretending to figure out my next move. Of course he saw through it. 

"What?"

"Sherlock,"

"No, no, wait," Sherlock interrupted jerking his head up, "Let me guess. That is always  _fun._ " He knew. He figured it out and he was hurt. Damn. "Dearest  _Mummy_ is staying on holiday indefinitely. Am I right, Mycroft? Oh, wait, did she invite you too? All three of you perfect people away from the  _freaks."_

"Sherlock, I'm-" He'd gotten up from the armchair and was throwing on a jumper.

"Save your breath." He opened the front door, "Bye!" And then he was gone. 

Mycroft pulled out his phone and began to track Sherlock,  _hopefully he'd taken his phone._ Mycroft was able to pick up the signal- Sherlock had only now left the neighborhood. He could drive after him of course, but how would that end? Surely with a fighting match and a number of unfavorable outcomes. It was better to let Sherlock think about this rationally. Let him process his thoughts. That was what he needed.  _Or maybe it's only what I need, if that._

"Has Sherlock gone out?" asked Mrs. Hudson appearing with a tea tray. 

"Regrettably." Mycroft took a sip from the teacup, "Thank you. Mrs. Hudson, I'm afraid I'll have to raise your pay- you will be taking the place of Sherlock's mother." 

"What?" Mrs. Hudson sat across form me, taking a teacup for herself. 

"Mother has decided to stay in the States permanently."

"Oh dear! I knew I didn't like- well, what my opinion matters. I am sorry. Have you told Sherlock? Perhaps I could break the news a bit more gently, you're not the softest with news you know."

"I just have."

"And he left." I nodded, "Well, dear he'll come back, always does. I'll make some of those cookies he likes so much. Anything I can help with? I could go out and meet him, wherever he is."

"No, no, he needs to be left alone, I think. Many thanks for the offer." 

"Of course. He'll be alright." With that she left and Mycroft was left staring at the dot making its way across streets farther and farther away. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time- sorry. Mycroft is terribly hard to write. Hope you enjoyed, let me know if you have any suggestions!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit darker and longer. Warnings for implied drug use and suicidal ideation. Read with caution, be safe. Much love to you, dears.

Sherlock didn't know where to go. He could go to Mrs. Hudson apartment- his sole bolthole. Of course Mycroft could find him there, but he hadn't come after him thus far, so he likely wouldn't bother him for the duration of tonight hopefully. 

He unlocked the front door to the flat and headed past Mrs' Hudson's flat and up the stairs to the vacated one. The room was how he had left it excepting the dust covered piece of paper on the floor. Of course Mrs. Hudson would write him something after figuring out he had used the flat. He picked it up and sat in the armchair, turning on the single lamp beside it. 

_Sherlock,_

_Terrible that you would break into someone's property! That's breaking and entering young man, I'm sure you know. I can forgive this, because I know you, but what I cannot is you eating everything from my refrigerator! I had baked those cookies especially for my sister, Sherlock and then I had nothing to serve her when she came in all the way from Ireland! If you require food I have left money in my flat- do not use it for anything aside from food, or I will know. There are a few boxes of that tea you like in the kitchen with a few other non-perishable food items. Other than that dear, I've fixed up your flat now. The bedroom is now properly usable. I did spend money on the bed, so use it young man. Don't be away too long, Mycroft does worry._

_Mrs. Hudson_

 

Sherlock considered the letter before placing it on the mantle. She was kind and had always cared so dearly for him. How he could repay her, he didn't know, but he must somehow. He went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea and took stock of the food. A few cans of beans and different vegetables. Perhaps he  _should_ eat something. Mrs. Hudson would become upset if he didn't. Yes, that was a logical reason. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he may or may not have been hungry. That had to do with the bothersome transport. Putting on a can of beans, he looked into the rest of the flat. The bathroom had been supplied with toilet paper, toothbrush and toothpaste, as well as soap. The bedroom did indeed have furniture now- a bed, table, lamp, mirror, and a chair. It was bare, true, but seemed homey even with only the few pieces of furniture. Satisfied with the flat, he headed back into the kitchen and put the beans in a bowl. Sitting down at the kitchen table, Sherlock was now ready to think. No, he wasn't ready. He didn't want to  _think._ He wanted to cry. But that was stupid and illogical. Crying wouldn't help anything. Why did he care anyway? His parents had been gone for the last six months. The rest of his life wasn't going to be much different from this time. He was always going to be alone, life had proved that thus far, so he might as well get used to it. But,  _oh god! was he lonely!_ Sherlock felt a tear trail down his face. No crying, no emotion, no. They only came faster and then he was sobbing. He was sobbing all alone in a dark flat that wasn't even his. 

* * *

He woke up two hours and twenty-two minutes later,  _when did I fall asleep?,_ with a stiff neck and a headache. He stretched and took a sip of cold tea. Now, he had work to do. He got up and set up his computer on the floor. Logging in he began to work. A few hours later he had completed his coding and computer studies and was hacking into Eurus's tumblr account. He worked it out eventually- email: eastwindqueen, password: ithatamqueen-  _couldn't be any more creative?_ He checked the locations where she had logged in. He narrowed down the area and looked on a map. The location seemed to be in the middle of the ocean between Britain and the rest of Europe. That was strange, what was out there? Sherlock searched pictures of the ocean on google but came up blank- there appeared to be only water. He browsed more and eventually came upon a single picture- a helicopter view of what appeared to be a castle, at least the layout of one, in the middle of the ocean. What was this, a fortress? He searched more trying to discover the name of whatever the place was, but came up with nothing. Mycroft has her in a building in the middle of the ocean. Why? And what. was. it?

He researched more, even trying to hack into MI6- without luck. There was no information to be found. A mystery- no, two, two!- mysteries he hadn't solved. Of course, if he could just think, just  _remember_ , then this would all be easier. He could do that, he knew how to. He knew how to heighten his thought processes and increase the speed he could run through his mind palace. It would be so easy, just down the street a bit and then back here. Just one little bit, just this one night, for just these two problems. And then that would be it. Nothing more. He could control it. Of course he could. 

Before he had thought anymore he was up, finding a hoodie in the closet in the bedroom and throwing it on before getting some of the money Mrs. Hudson had left in her flat. Easy, she'd never know. No one would know. One night, one hit, that was all. Leaving his phone on the hall table he went out into the night. Down a few streets to a back alley and a few minutes later he was back, lying down on the living room floor staring at the ceiling and trying to figure it out. What had Eurus done? Where was she? Why was she gone? Why had his parents never mentioned her? Why were they abondoning him? Was he so terrible they couldn't stand to even come home for holidays? Was he terrible? Was he? Was he? Was he? He was. Not working, it's not working, not working. A bit more maybe and a cup of coffee. Sherlock made a cup, took a bit more and sat in the lamp light staring at the wall. The same questions kept throwing themselves through his head without answers. Without catching upon a hook with a linking memory. Nothing, No reasons, no logic, nothing. He was terrible. He was terrible. He was terrible. 

 Sherlock walked over to the window- was he stumbling or was the room moving?- pushing it up and climbing onto the fire escape. It wasn't high enough. Would the roof be? He glanced up- it was only a few more feet, so no. Suddenly his chest felt too heavy to continue standing. Sherlock settled onto the fire escape, leaning against the metal, eyes to the stars. Oh how sentimental- look to the stars, all of the wonders- ridiculous. It didn't help, why did people pretend it helped? Most are dead anyway, burned up but still shining. Or just shining from our view. People were such idiots they didn't know when something had died, just because it still glowed. How familiar. He laughed dryly. What was there for him here? Not his parents, no Mycroft, not Eurus- whoever she was- Mrs. Hudson didn't count. She cared, but he didn't  _really_ matter to her. He had no- his thoughts were interrupted by the furious ringing of the doorbell.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was watching TFP to try and get into Eurus's head, and it's screwy (the episode I mean). I mean, Mycroft with his "there was always honey for tea" what are you a children's book narrator now? Why are you being so dramatic? And it's implied that Eurus only got the violin as a present either the year before meeting Sherlock or meeting Moriarty, so like what was she doing for the rest of the time? I mean she was in there since early childhood so.... weird. Anywho, hope you liked this chapter. Leave love and suggestions in the comments, dears. They mean so much to me. Thanks for the kudos as well dear readers. Have a good weekend! !שבת שלום


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock scrambled in through the window, rushing through the bedroom and kitchen, continuing down the stairs as the ringing continued. He threw open the hall door and then the outside door revealing a girl on the doorstep. She looked up at him, frightened.

"Are you- are you Sherlock Holmes?" her voice wavered through the sentence. 

"Yes." Sherlock snapped.

"I saw this address on your website. Are you taking clients?"

"I never said-"

"Please, just a moment of your time." she stepped forward slightly. 

"Fine, fine. Come in." He ushered her in, closing the door hardly behind him. "Up the stairs." The girl walked up the stairs, Sherlock following impatiently behind. 

"Sit." Sherlock pointed to the armchair. 

"Rather stand." Without a reply Sherlock sat in the armchair instead. 

"Well, get on with it. I'm busy." He looked to her, her back was turned. "No, wait. Let me see... You're young, what fifteen? Out on your own, don't your parents care? Family problems is it? Those are often domestic problems, I don't deal with  _domestic._ Go to the police, they're usually good with these kinds of things. Tell them I sent you, probably get a good reaction." He exhaled a laugh.

"Sherlock Holmes," She turned, "Just listen, please. I know you can help me." 

"If you must stand at least give me your bag." He said. 

"Good." She handed him the purse before turning away again. "It's my mother." Silence. Sherlock turned on the side lamp, casting a ray of light onto the girl. 

"While you work up the courage to tell me the story, tell me about yourself. What's your name?"

 "Eliza." She turned around, "Here." She handed him a piece of paper, turning and looking out the window at the setting sun.

 "Three years ago." she said, Sherlock examined the paper, "my mother told me something. One word, Sherlock." She paused, tracing the edge of the curtain with her finger, "and it changed my world forever." 

"What word?" Sherlock turned the paper over, examining the other side- _one crease, fading bottom two-thirds, pen written: love, book, grave._

"I can't remember." Sherlock looked up from the paper, looking to the girl in the blue dress- _blue dress creased on the bottom, worn boots, wrinkled white shirt underneath, leggings, unwashed hair: one week?_

She's sitting in the small wooden chair now. "Don't know..." he murmured.

"Sorry, what?"

"Well, you've changed." he said loudly, "Not accustomed to not being hygienic? Recent then. You've been letting yourself go."

"Do you ever want to look in the mirror and see someone else?"

"No, did someone drive you here? A friend?"

"I don't have any."  

"Oh..."

"Why do you ask?"

"Not sure, actually. Probably noticed something." _Long sleeves under the dress in this weather? Has she brushed her hair? Why is her dress wet? Is it wet? Has it rained? I was just outside... How did she get here? Don't know don't know don't know. Go away!_ Sherlock swept the thoughts away in his mind palace, his hand sweeping involuntarily. The dress was wet on his fingers. He glances down at them, his hand is shaking. _Stop! STOP!_ Close, open fingers. Still trembling. 

"Are you okay?"

"Of course you don't have friends. You couldn't meet any. Hiding in isolation. No human contact, no visitors." Sherlock looks at the paper again, _figure it out._

 "Okay, how do you know that?" _Shaking voice, she's scared. Why? Oh, I said that out loud. Damn._

He waves the paper, "It's all here, isn't it? Look." _The window, I was looking for-_ "You can't afford a good flat, you're a child. It's a single room most likely. Teeny-tiny." _It has rained and what was the other reason?_ "Must be annoying when you're such a keen cook."

"I don't understand." 

"Hang on a minute." _What was the reason I was looking out the window?_ "I was looking out the window. Why was I doing that?" _Damn, keep your thoughts inside, young man. Shut up!_

"I don't know!" 

"Me either. Must have had a reason. It'll come back to me." _What does she cook? The smell is strong... it's Saturday._ "Of course you didn't drive here it's Saturday. You couldn't get a taxi either. Strict." _That information doesn't help. Next!_ "You got a room when you left your parent's house after what happened. No, no you moved in with someone for a bit and then got the room after."

"You can't know that." 

"'Course I can. They weren't there most of the time, were they? For quite a bit of the time indeed." _The crease._  "There see, obvious." 

"You can't tell things like that from a piece of paper." 

"Think I just did, didn't I? Sure that was me." _Always me._

" _How?"_

"Don't know. It just happens. Like a reflex. I can't stop it." _The rain, it's raining again. Her dress isn't wet enough for her to have walked all the way here in the rain... what am I missing? What am I missing? She's missing-_ "Coat." _Where's the coat?_ He gets up and walks around to the kitchen, _not on the coat rack-_

"I don't have a coat." _How did I forget? Where are my thoughts? What did I take?_ He looked into the kitchen at the substances on the counter. _Was it too much?_

"Yeah, that's what I just noticed. Wonder why?" _Narrow it down._ "Piss off." Sherlock closed the door on Mycroft standing in the kitchen.

"So, what do you think?" 

"Of what?" _I'm hallucinating now, brilliant._

"My case." 

"Oh, it's way too weird for me. Like I said, go to the police. Tell me I sent you. Should get a reaction. Night night!" He throws her the purse- _too heavy, why?_

"Please. I have no one else to turn to."

"Yes, but I'm very busy at the moment." _I have a secret sister to figure out, and parents deserting me, and a brother who's probably looking for me and is probably on his way here right now, and I took too much to deal with any of it._ "I have to drink a cup of tea." Sherlock goes back into the kitchen, closing the doors halfway. He begins to examine the substances on the counter and setting a pot on the stove to heat- makeshift laboratory in order.

"You're my last hope." She's standing in the other side of the doors, looking at him through the crack.

"Really? That's bad luck isn't it? Good night, go away." He shuts the doors fully, back to the experiments. _That was odd. The dress and shirt, the hair, the paper, the rain, the handbag.... the handbag!_ "Handbag." _Of course._ "Handbag!" Sherlock rushed out into the living room. "Eliza?" Down the stairs. "Eliza! Stop. Wait!" She was nearly gone. "Your life is not your own. Keep your hands off it. Do you hear me?" _Do I hear myself?_ "Off it. _Off it."_

"What are you talking about?" 

"Your skirt. Dress."

"The hem of it. That's what I noticed." _Of course, obvious. Don't get distracted._ "Sorry, I'm still catching up with my brain, it's terribly fast. Those markings, do you see them? Sure you could get them in a car, but you didn't ride in a car. I heard you mutter something as the sun set, obvious. But you could get those from trapping it in anything similar to a car door. Conclusion: oven. Those dark marks on it solidify it as well. You baked recently and wore the same dress. Most likely the same outfit as yesterday. You walked here from quite a ways, didn't you? Anyway, those sleeves are useful aren't they? You do keep pulling them down. Over scars." 

"You never saw them."

"No, I didn't. Thank you for confirming my hypothesis. Eliza, you walked here a long way but you haven't called a taxi and you're all the way to the door. Now you're going out into the rain with no where to go? No, you can keep your scars. I want your handbag." 

"Why?"

"I don't have to check that those scars are from self harm, do I?"

"No."

"So, I want your handbag. You're going out with no where to go- and a gun."  _Fire, burn marks on the skirt. Why?_

"Chips!"

"Chips?"

"You're suicidal and afraid, you're allowed chips. It's about the only perk. Come on." He closed the door behind them, leaving his phone on the hall table,  _good luck finding us Mycroft._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I stole a lot from The Lying Detective, but I LOVED this scene, so I had too. The changes do mean something by the way and did anyone figure out how Sherlock made his deductions? I gave enough clues so that you guys could figure out a bit about Eliza. I'm not sure if those will contribute to the story later, but it was still fun.


	14. Chapter 14

Sherlock ducked under the awning, pulling Eliza roughly with him. He sat down on the bench and looked out into the dark street. The rain had begun to pour down again and they had both gotten quite soaked- the only thing that wasn't dripping water was the basket of chips, but only because Sherlock had shielded it under his sweater. He pulled it out and set it on the bench between him and Eliza, picking one out.

 "So, the paper?" asked Eliza, gesturing to the piece of paper she had give Sherlock, who was looking at it again.

"Well, see the fold in the middle? It was folded, put into a book, hidden for a few months. Must have been a tightly packed shelf going by the severity of the crease. So you were keeping it hidden from someone where a level of privacy could not be assumed. Going by your age it wasn't a relationship, only a situation similar to one. However," he pointed to a small hole in the top of the paper, "there's a pin prick at the top. So, you don't have to worry about privacy anymore. Conclusion: you moved out. The paper's been exposed to steam and a variety of cooking smells, so it's been on display in the kitchen. Lots of different spices, keen cook then. A kitchen is the most public room in any house," _left the drugs out damn, look who's talking. "_ So I must assume you don't have any visitors, you've isolated yourself."

"Amazing." Eliza took a chip.

"I know."

"I meant the chips." Sherlock smiled and chuckled, _nice._ The rain had let up a bit now. 

"Let's walk a bit more." And again they headed out into the rain.

* * *

Hours passed, mostly in silence. Dawn was arriving, the sun had begun to peek over the horizon. Sherlock had begun to meander back towards the flat, a different way then they had come, why go back the same way? His hands were shaking, he was itching for a fix. Damn, he'd fallen again. Well, he had something else now. A case. A person with him. 

"Do you-" Sherlock began, but stopped the sentence, it was too ridiculous. She would never except.

"Hm?" She looked over at him.

"Do you want to stay at the flat a few days? I mean, you shouldn't have to go all the way back to your own flat after just arriving. You must be tired anyway and it shouldn't take me long to solve your problem- if you could figure out what it is." He smirked at her, lighting the atmosphere, try to put her at ease.

"It would be too much of an imposition really."

"No, it wouldn't. Only the two of us. If that's the problem, I could just shut myself in my room. Don't mind you taking over the rest of the flat."

"That wouldn't be necessary."

"Well?"

"Alright..." she said unsurely. 

"Good." There was silence again. Then quietly came:

"Thank you."

He didn't reply, only nodded. They continued on the way aback to the flat in silence again. It was pleasant. The calmest Sherlock had felt in quite a long time.

* * *

 

She was able to stay with him? She fought down a smile, fought down the glee in her heart. Closing her eyes briefly, she saw the plane descend. The ground came closer. Close, so close.

* * *

Sherlock took of the sweatshirt and threw it on the kitchen chair. He put on water for tea, puttering around in the cabinets looking for something to eat.

"What's this?" Sherlock turned around- Eliza was looking at the powders on the table.

"Just-" He began to gather them up hurriedly, "Nothing. Not your concern." The water was boiling. He turned back around to make the tea. "Um, sugar?"

"Yes." He added sugar to the cups- handing her a mug, setting his on the table. He left the kitchen for the bedroom putting the packets on the bedside table. _Out of sight, out of mind._  

He returned to the kitchen and sat across from Eliza. 

"Would you like to go out later and get a few more things to wear?" 

"I don't have any money."

"I could purchase them for you. Consider it charity. A helping hand."

"No, really."

"I insist."

She rolled her eyes then. Laughing she said, "Fine, later."

Sherlock nodded and smiled- just a bit.

* * *

After a few more mugs of tea and a shower, they went out to a few shops. In the end they found two acceptable outfits as well as some food- an insistance from Eliza, predictable. He joked it was such a stereotype, she had grinned. 

They returned to the flat and settled into their own activities. Sherlock did a number of experiments in the kitchen, examined and re-examined the paper provided by Eliza. Eliza busied herself reading books around the flat, writing and drawing in a notebook bought earlier. The quietness was companionable and continued into the evening. It was broken at 9:04 by Eliza.

"Sherlock!" He looked over at her from the kitchen. She rushed over to him. "I remember! It was 'Fire'."

"What?" 

"The word Sherlock! It was 'fire'!" Sherlock looked away from her then, suddenly lost in thought.

 

_The flames licked the floors, then the walls._

_A stench of smoke filled his lungs, burned his eyes._

_Movement._

_Fast._

_Too hot, couldn't breathe._

_Someone's hand on his back._

 

"Anything else?" 

"No." 

_No._

 

 

 


End file.
